100 Lil Tropes
by lilsherlockian1975
Summary: Here be my attempt to fill as many of 100 tropes as I possibly can. 100% Bramie, HEA (unless noted at the beginning of the story, though I don't often do the sads) Ratings will vary and listed in the a/n. Please review or message me with questions/requests. Thanks!
1. A Mighty Need

**Quick note:** this is the first of my trope fic fills, my personal prompts if you will. I have a list of 100 tropes not sure if I'll get them all filled but will make an effort. Ratings will vary. Check a/n's at the beginning of each 'chapter' for ratings, warnings and info.

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**Bodyguard AU** \- modern era - no insist, that I'm aware of… Who knows what these characters get up to when I'm not around? - Rated **M**

_I want to thank kendrapendragon for reading over this and helping me trim some fat. Bless her! No warnings except a bit of very light BDSM talk (I mean very light!). _

_I own nothing. Enjoy! ~Lil~_

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**\- A Mighty Need -**

Gendry, Tywin's body man and Pia, his personal assistant, have both figured out what's going on and talk about it frequently. Sometimes they exchange texts after work about just how obvious their boss's son has been that day. Bron, Tyrion's detail, is well aware of what's going on. He and his boss were the first ones to notice, though in fairness, everyone else followed pretty quickly. Bronn often makes (very) thinly veiled comments about the mounting tension and the Golden Boy's needs _not_ being met. Even Gregor Clegane, Cersei's currently assigned _Wall of Meat_, has figured it out - if his occasional raised eyebrow is anything to go by. However, Brienne Tarth, the subject of company gossip and Jamie Lannister's constant source of torment, has not.

o0o0o

"We've been through this, Mr Lannister," Brienne says. Her anger is becoming palpable thing, filling the room, not unlike the formidable woman herself.

Jamie feigns disinterest, hoping to further provoke his bodyguard. "Maybe I need the rules repeated, wench. Perhaps I've missed something vital." He shrugs. "Looks like another late night for the both of us."

"Not rules, sir, guidelines…"

"If I've broken the guidelines…"

"Oh, you have, repeatedly."

"If I've broken your precious guidelines, then... punish me," he says without a hint of mirth. It's the first time he's said something so plainly. He has hinted, he has flirted, he even had a subscription of _Big D's - Little s's_ sent to her home, unquestioningly crossing every employer/employee line that ever existed (she came in after receiving the first issue, complaining about the incompetence of the postal service). But the man is desperate! What had started out as a curiosity has slowly, over the last five months (three weeks and four days!) become an obsession.

He's not sure when he started deliberately antagonising her, trying to provoke her to _Brienne-handle_ him - probably some time after the (second) attempted kidnapping but before he watched her incapacitate three assailants in front of Casterly Holdings. Though he'd really stepped up his game after that. The incident had left him achingly hard and he _might_ have caught himself scribbling her name along with the occasional hearts and flowers in the weeks that followed. But…

Brienne huffs. "Mr Lannister…"

"No! I'm serious!" he insists. "Ask anyone! It's the only way to get anything into my thick skull!"

"You know what!?" She throws up her hands and takes two steps forward. "If you can't keep yourself out of danger and stop this… this needlessly…"

She's searching for a word, so Jamie helps, "Sexy?"

"... idiotic behaviour, then I'll be forced to step down. I can't work like this!"

"Step down?"

"Yes. Quit."

"You can't quit!"

"Of course I can!"

Feeling he is at his literal end, Jamie lunges forward, grabbing the woman by her shoulders. "No, Brienne, you can't," he practically growls.

"Mr Lan…"

"Shut up, just stop talking! I can't do this anymore." He tugs her closer. "And I've told you, my name is Jamie."

"Can't do _what_ anymore? I don't understand."

Loosening his hold on her arms, he shakes his head. "I know, Brienne. Everyone else knows, everyone else understands but you." Jamie can see the distrust flash in her pretty eyes. "NO! No, wench, I just… It's… I've been rather obvious, I'm afraid."

She doesn't respond, but he can tell she's trying to work out his meaning. She gives up, Jamie supposes, and asks, "Obvious about what, sir?"

He draws his hands down her shirtsleeves in an attempt to calm her, and possibly himself, as he considers exactly how to word what he wants, what he desires from the wen... - from Brienne. After wetting his lips and studying hers, Jamie makes a decision. "You're fired, Miss Tarth." Her gasp is near heartrending, telling him just how hollow her threat had been, but he presses forward. "I happen to know that there's an opening at the White Tower." He smirks, it's full of false bravado and he prays it conceals how difficult this is for him. "How does _Agent_ Tarth sound?" Stannis doesn't deserve her, but that doesn't matter; he can't live like this anymore.

"How am I supposed to get a job like that after being fired?"

The Mother Herself couldn't have stopped Jamie's eye roll as he mumbles, "Stupid, stubborn wench! I'll recommend you, of course." It is a dream job, quite literally in Brienne's case. She had told him once, just a few months prior, that as a little girl, she had dreamt of guarding a king like the knights of old. Westeros has long since traded their monarchy for a parliamentary state - one too many wars finally convinced the people that kings and queens simply didn't work - so guarding the pompous ass of a Prime Minister is as close as she's going to get.

"Why?"

And the pleading tone in her voice finally breaks poor Jamie right in two.

He pulls her close, close enough for her to feel his hardening cock. She gasps but doesn't retreat, so he presses it more firmly against her hip._ "Brienne…"_ This time, the sound of her name on his lips feels like a surrender. "I can't go on like this." Her eyes are wide and, though he's not a praying man, Jamie finds himself silently vowing anything the Seven might demand in exchange for her acceptance of him. "I _want_."

A beat passes. Then another before she puts her hands are on his chest, nudging him back several inches. "What exactly do you want… Jamie?"

He has to close his eyes and take a moment because if her name felt like surrender, his name from her lips feels like salvation. _Get this right,_ he tells himself, _for once don't fuck this up!_ Taking a deep breath, he looks at her. Those beautiful, blue eyes are wide and curious and only a little bit disbelieving. "I want you to hold me down and make love to me," he says, laying it out as honestly as he can. "Gods know you're strong enough."

Brienne's body shivers at his words and Jamie feels himself relax, knowing he has affected her in some small way. He could leave it there; he's made himself clear. Once he starts, however, it seems he can't stop.

"You could tie me up or use those handcuffs you keep in your back pocket at all times," he adds with a smirk, pretending the knowledge of said cuffs don't make him hard every time he sees their outline against that well-defined arse of hers. _Why am I even pretending?_ "I want you to use me however you see fit, Brienne. I want you to order me around, tell me what to do…"

"You never listen to me," she says and has she moved closer to him?

She has. Instinctually, he backs up but she follows. "Ah, yeah, s-sorry 'bout that…"

Brienne narrows her eyes and there is a sudden yet unmistakable shift in the atmosphere of the room. Jamie thinks he knows what's happening, thinks he can see the dawning on the wench's face as the puzzle pieces start falling into place.

"_Are_ you?" she asks in a stern voice. "You don't _seem_ sorry."

Jamie wets his very dry lips. _Oh, she definitely has the idea of it!_ He's still moving, still backing up. Suddenly, he feels something at his back and realises that he's up against the door. Panic mixed with arousal floods his mind, clouds his senses. He doesn't realise he's about to beg, even as the word starts to leave his mouth, "Plea..."

"Not yet," she cuts him off. "I'm giving you my two weeks notice, Mr Lannister. And, if you have no need for me at the moment…"

_Need?_ He has a mighty need! _Just look at my need, wench!_

"... I should go work on my CV." Her eyes travel down his body to his obvious erection. She swallows heavily; so does Jamie. "I will be at your flat tonight at 7 to discuss your… _wants_."

He nods, thankful that she finally understands him completely. His eyes drift to the door to his office loo just a few feet away. He's going to have to deal with his cock in order to make it to...

Her hand on his chin stops any and all masturbatory thoughts in their tracks as she grips him none-too-gently, forcing his attention back on her. "In the meantime, don't touch that." She nods to his crotch and the words _'a duck to water'_ flash into Jamie's lust-addled brain. But he's not surprised; he always knew she'd be good if maybe a little slow to catch on. _So, so good._ "I want you aching when I get there," she says flatly before releasing him. She leaves then, without so much as a backwards glance.

Pushing off from the wall, Jamie takes a deep breath and wonders if he should have told her that he not only wanted her to take possession of his body but also his heart. He shakes it off.

She's coming to his flat tonight to see to him. He'll make sure to mention it then.

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_Okay, one down...99 to go? Yeah, I'm going to do my best and not put too much pressure on myself. If I can manage to finish some of these and post them, it'll feel like a win! Thanks for reading. Please drop me a line and let me know what you think. Also, come find me on tumblr... same name ~Lil~_


	2. Reluctant Relationship Counsellor

****Accidental Eavesdropping - ****I suppose this one is canon-compliant - up to the point that Jaime leaves...we need to put a stop to that effery! Please remember that this is all in good fun and that Tormund is **wildly** out of character.

_Another big thanks to kendrapendragon for reading this over and giving me some great notes as well as a wonderful suggestion about the ending. This one's rated **T.**_

_I own nothing. Enjoy! ~Lil~_

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** \- Tormund Giansbane: Reluctant Relationship Counsellor -**

Tormund Giantsbane is always up before dawn, no matter how much ale he's had the night before. Always. That's how he finds himself watching that Southern kingkiller readying a horse in the wee hours one morning just about a moon's turn after the Long Night. The Wildling has just finished preparing a horse himself to ride out for a hunt.

"_That lowly son of a wight's bitch,"_ he grumbles under his breath as he watches because it's clear what the kingkiller is doing. Just as it's clear what he's _been _doing with the big woman since the Long Night. The craven piece of is shit packing is for a long journey, not some quick scouting or hunting trip and Tormund thinks him a fool for it. If he'd been able to secure the big woman's attention, he'd spend the rest of his days worshipping her never leave her side. It seems to him that Southern lords are maybe a special kind of stupid.

He continues to watch, pondering the idiocy of the scrote in front of him and working on a new strategy of seduction, now that the pretty prick will be out of the way, when…

Brienne stalks up to the kingkiller's side and, of course, she starts begging him to stay. Tormund is only half paying attention, more than a bit distracted by the woman's state of dress, until he hears Lannister's reason for leaving and decides that maybe… _Ah, fuck!_ The big woman's losing her fight for the man's loyalty _and _his love, or she thinks she is, at least, as the one-handed fool feeds her a load of horseshit.

With a sigh of resignation, Tormund quietly leaves his listening spot, takes his horse and heads for one of the ruined walls to exit Winterfell without being spotted by the couple in front of him. The kingkiller doesn't deserve Tormund's intervention but Brienne does. He's watched her fight; he's seen the loyalty she has for people of the North (knowing that she's from some Southern isle, Tormund finds this fascinating) and he has seen how utterly besotted she is with the kingkiller. Tormund doesn't understand her devotion to the one-handed oathbreaker but it cannot be denied.

He rides hard and fast, stopping at the crossroad that will lead Lannister to that wretched sister of his. The Wildling is certain that the idiot will take the most direct route. He's right, of course, and doesn't have to wait long before the fool is riding at him, full tilt. It's dark, the sun - because light has finally started to return properly to the once accursed land - has not yet made it over the mountains. The moon, however, is offering enough illumination for the kingkiller to see the obstacle that Tormund presents and he slows his horse to a canter, stopping several feet in front of the Wildling.

"Well met, Tormund," the Southern shit-head greets.

"Save yer fancy words for someone who cares, kingkiller!" Tormund says. "Off yer horse, I have somethin' to tell you."

Lannister doesn't get down from his horse; Tormund isn't surprised. The kingkiller only ever followed Brienne's orders as they fought. _But not her crying pleas for his love. What a fuckin' idiot!_

"I'll stay right here. Say your piece and be done, Wildling," Lannister replies, sounding like the uppity cunt that everyone but Brienne always says he is.

"Have it yer way," Tormund spits back and is already regretting his decision to help the stupid fucker. "I lied."

The kingkiller sighs. "About what?"

"Ma name. How I got it."

_"You don't say?"_ the other man says with a sneer.

Tormund manages to quell his instinct to reach for his axe and split the pretty lord from teeth to cock.

Lannister shifts in the saddle and tightens the reins in his left hand; the right one lays motionless, useless, atop his thigh. "Illuminating as this is, I have somewhere to be…"

"The truth is not as heroic, ya see."

"Why should I…?"

"Shut the fuck up and listen!" Tormund shouts - this arsehole is pissing him off. He gets off his horse and pulls a wineskin from the saddlebag. Though he prefers drinking from his horn, it's not practical when hunting. After taking a drink, he returns it to the bag; he has no intention of sharing it with the kingkiller. "When I was a boy and stupid the way boys are, I got caught in the middle of a winter storm. A real storm, something you Southern cunts wouldn't survive. But even for me… I was in danger of freezin' my balls off. I came upon a sleepin' giantess. Well, I had this idea all of a sudden and cut open her belly and crawled up right inside her."

Even in the low light, he can see Lannister cringe.

"Kept me warm enough, she did, but the stink near did me in. She woke up when the spring come and took me for her babe. Suckled me for three whole moons before I could get away. I admit, there's times I miss the taste o' giant's milk. And I stand by the claim that it made me strong as an auroch!"

Silence falls on the small patch of road as the kingkiller seems to be pondering Tormund's words. Finally, the man looks down at him and says, "What could that frankly _disturbing _tale possibly have to do with me?"

Tormund slowly walks over to the man's horse, stroking its nose before meeting Lannister's eyes. "I tell you that, kingkiller, 'cause I know a lie when I hear one."

With that, the other man looks away. "You listened in on a private conversation," he says, staring across the landscape. The sun is just starting to rise. "Even someone as barbaric as you should…"

"Ah, shove it up your Southern arse!" This gets Lannister's attention and his head whips back to Tormund. "I was goin' out on a hunt and overheard." He pauses. "She deserves better than that, than being tossed away like she don't matter. I've seen her take a dozen hits and not even flinch but you made her cry."

Lannister seems to deflate. He shakes his head then he dismounts. Taking his time before responding, the man removes his gloves, laying them atop the saddle. "You won't make me rethink my decision. I've made up my mind," he says. His voice is quiet and full of doubt but Tormund can see that he's trying to find that arrogance that he's always wearing like some kind of damn armour. "And I wasn't lying."

"I heard the story, ya know. About the pair of you and yer travels. That little Pod fellow worships her. He got drunk an' told about how you were her prisoner and how you saved her from bein' raped and et by a bear. Didn't take much to get 'im goin'. I just asked about her sword."

Now the kingkiller is even more uncomfortable. He takes a step back toward his horse and starts tightening the straps. "Doesn't matter. Our past is…"

"You said you'd 'ave killed everyone at Riverrun but you met _her _at Riverrun, didn't ya?" Tormund interrupts.

Lannister's head jerks toward Tormund once again. "I _would _have killed her when we met! I bloody well tried, not that it's any of your concern," he growls.

Tormund laughs, thinking, _you could have _tried _to kill her. _"Aye, maybe, but yer not that man anymore."

"I said I _would _have, you half-wit!"

"And would you now?" The question freezes the kingkiller. He looks like he's been doused by that gods be damned ice dragon. _Good_, Tormund thinks, _think for once in your life._ "You've done 'orrible things for yer sister, aye, but you've done great things for Brienne of Tarth. Honorable things. Tell me I'm wrong."

The kingkiller staggers back a foot or so as if the words hit him like a blow with a war hammer.

"You can't say that you'd have killed her, can't say it for sure, not now that she's made you a better man."

"I'm _still_ a hateful man. She didn't change that."

"Is that so?" Tormund says with confidence. "A hateful man wouldn't've left his sister - his lover - to come all the way up here to the arse end of the world, to a camp full of folk who want him dead and fight a battle when he could've stayed by his hateful sister's side and let other people fight without him." He pauses. "Why'd you come?"

Lannister's eyes are focused on the snow-covered ground. He looks like he's trying to work out his answer. Finally, after several minutes, he seems to have found it. "She lied. Cersei," he explains. "I - I couldn't let that…I had to do something. Everyone was in danger."

"Yeah. Very hateful of you," Tormund interjects. "Now, why don't you tell me the real reason?"

Shaking his head in disbelief, Lannister tries to defend his position, weakly saying, "I am a hateful man," with little to no convection.

"Why'd you come, Jaime?"

He looks surprised, probably at the Wildling's use his first name. "I wanted to make sure she lived," he asnswers at length.

"Who?" Tormund asks, although it's obvious; he just wants to make the miserable fucker say it.

"Brienne, of course. She's everything good and true and honourable in this world. Everything I'm not. That's why I can't… I can't..." Shaking himself, he picks up his gloves and starts putting them back on. Though he's obviously trying to steel himself, a telling sniffle escapes as he works. Tormund watches, a bit impressed as Lannister lays the left glove on the saddle, wiggling his hand into it before tugging it on the rest of the way with his teeth. He's focused on his task now and seems resolute in it. "I shouldn't have touched her. It wasn't part of the plan…"

"You actually had a plan?"

Now that his gloves are in place, he seems lost. Head still hung, he says, "Just… come here, fight… die."

"You didn't die."

"No. Couldn't even do that right. I got drunk instead." He looks up. "I'm not… I don't handle my drink as well as Tyrion or…" He pauses, cutting his eyes across the landscape before looking back to Tormund. "Then _you_! Well, the rest is _your _fault." The jape falls flat, of course, though the kingkiller almost seems like he expected as much.

"So you wouldn't have done anything if I hadn't had designs on her?" Tormund chuckles. "You 'spect me to believe that?"

The sun has risen enough for him to fully see the other man's eyes now. They're large and wet. Freefolk don't hold things in like these Southern lords. Tears aren't shameful beyond the Wall and he'd tell him as much if he liked him, but he doesn't.

"I'm not supposed to be happy. I - I'm supposed to die with Cersei."

"Why's that?"

"She always said so, my sister: we came into this world together and… Doesn't matter. We're the same, both hateful. Tainted." He blinks and shakes his head. "Brienne was the only unspoiled thing in my life yet I spoiled her. Over and over, these weeks, I..." That's when the tears finally start to fall.

"So, Brienne's good and true and honourable and yer sister's evil and tainted and hateful?" Tormund says and Lannister looks up, wiping his face with the back of his hand. "Why are you so ready to ride South and die for a hateful woman when there's a good one a half a mile North who only wants you to live?"

Lanniter's mouth hangs open, gaping like a river trout. He looks stricken, confused then downright angry. He kicks at the snow and mumbles something under his breath about being _the stupidest something or 'nother;_ Tormund can't disagree with the idiot.

"You figure it out yet?" he asks and Lannister nods. "Well then get yer arse back on that horse and do the right thing."

Another sniffle. A muffled curse. And the kingkiller's getting back on his mount and turning it North.

Tormund follows suit. Once they're moving at a slow trot, he says, "Did I ever tell you about the time I fucked a she-bear?" Might as well entertain the one-handed oathbreaker as they ride.

Let it never be said that Tormund Giantsbane is a sore loser.

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_So, Tormund's 'real' story about his name is from the books - and sooo much better, in my opinion! Hope you liked this one! Please let me know. ~Lil~_


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